A.N. ~ hey! So, first off I'd like to apologize for the weird catagorization of this story. They don't really have a Creepypasta section, which is actually kind of heartbreaking...
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN JEFF THE KILLER NOR ANYTHING FROM CREEPYPASTA, I DON'T OWN THE COVER IMAGE (oh, sue me, I know there are others who lie about it, too. I don't own that picture, all rights and credit go to its owner(s)) I ONLY OWN MY ONs (Original Nouns).
Jakara wasn't too fond of being herself lately. She was awkward around other children and wasn't too good at talking in a nice way, often going about in a way that practically screamed 'I'll try being nicer when you try being smarter'. What really branded her was how often she was alone. Alone in the hallways, in the classroom, at the lunch table and on the playground. Not to mention the strange name her parents had chosen for her.
But then, she and her older sister, and basically anyone who ever met her could also say the girl's attitude was a major contributor. Not only was she hot-blooded, particularly whenever she was pushed by bullies, but she also had an especially strong sense of sarcasm and overall disinterest.
Plus almost no one besides her classmates, gym instructor, and sister knew what she actually looked like. She practically always was in black pants and a grey hoodie, often with the hood up. Their homeroom teacher didn't mind, and actually didn't ban hats and hoods at all, as he saw no reason for why as long as that student kept his or her grades up and didn't cause trouble.
It wasn't shyness or anything of the sort; she didn't really care how she looked or what others thought of her. It really seemed rather idiotic to the fifteen-year-old, how other children would wear masks and pretend to be what they weren't just so everyone would accept them, even if no one actually particularly cared. It was an unspoken stereotype that everyone abided by without thinking.
Jakara hated those kinds of people.
And yet, as she strolled down the sidewalk with her hands shoved in her sweater's pockets, those types of people were the only ones on her mind.
Grief, Julie was being such a priss today. 'Oh no, I got mud on my shoes today, they were brand new'. What did she expect? We've only been having rainstorms for the last two weeks. There's mud everywhere. 'I can't believe this, my make-up is ruined. P.E. is such a drag'. Well, princess, you were whining about classes before gym, so make up your mind. Math or exercise? She sighed, closing her eyes for a few seconds before opening them again.
Looking up to the overcast sky seeping pale light down to the dingy ground, the girl wondered how and why anybody ever grew up in such a way. It seemed so shallow and empty to her. Not that she could call her own lifestyle anything great. All she did was keep to herself and uncomfortably tolerate any friendly peoples' presences until they got the hint and left her in peace.
The slightest flash of movement drew her attention back to Earth, and her eyes flitted over the dark buildings and into the black alleyways.
This place is practically begging for something bad to happen. Martial arts practice or no, better get going...
Hunching her shoulders and pulling her hood down as far as possible, she began jogging, ignoring the bump of her underweight backpack against her slim body.
"The mysterious killings are still occurring, and the police have yet to find any evidence pointing towards who the murderer might be. Victims' ages and genders vary and they appear to be random, being killed by what appears to be a sharp object of some sort anywhere from in parks to their own houses.
It is being strongly suggested that everyone locks their doors and windows at night and also to not stay out too late, as times after the sun sets are when the police have determined most killings occur."
Jakara only half-mindedly paid any heed to her food, giving the droning news anchor just as much attention. Her hood was still up, making only the lower half of her face visible whilst she blankly worked at the mashed potatoes that were the only surviving food on her plate.
"So, how was school?" Her sister smiled kindly, already scooping up the last scraps of food onto her fork.
"Same old. The usual drama queens and jerks that are always there." She shrugged and her sibling carefully kept a neutral expression, as she'd already learned the futility of trying to argue with Jakara whenever her attitude was involved.
Jacy was the elder by five years, putting her at twenty. She'd inherited their father's appearance the most, with sandy blond hair and dark chocolate-brown eyes, along with a slightly humped nose.
The opposite of her sister, whose nose was thin and her eyes were a dark blue, several shades deeper than their mother's, and framed by her curly dark brown hair.
Their parents had passed away four years earlier, leaving the girls alone and causing them to spend two miserable years in foster care before Jacy had turned eighteen, gotten a job, and taken custody of her younger sister.
But it was too late. By the time they'd gotten out, the elder's smiles always seemed somewhat forced and weak and the younger had crawled into herself, hiding her face most of the time and generally avoiding people. Their personalities were twisted off their original paths and never would be the same.
"Uh, how was work?"
"The usual pigs and cheapskates." Wry smiles passed between them, dropping in moments as their attention fell back to their food.
Soon after, the clatter of dirty dishes filled the room as they began cleaning up. Food was put away, plates and cutlery washed, and the sisters separated.
Jakara went to the basement, closing the door at the top of the stairs behind her and heading down into the darkness. She didn't really hate the dark so much as the feeling that she couldn't see anything and anything could see her, and that if she was attacked, she'd be borderline helpless.
It was completely illogical, she knew. If anyone had come into the house, she or Jacy would have heard the noisy doors opening. They kept their windows locked the majority of the time, so no one would have had a chance to enter unnoticed. And yet she feared utter blackness, and hurried to find the light switch.
Once it flickered on, she looked over the familiar, comforting sight of her space. There was the main carpeted room the stairs led into and a couch sat against one wall. A bathroom was directly beside the stairs, and her bedroom was to the right. The door to the boiler room was on the left, and a closet full of spare towels and blankets was beside it.
Inside her room, a bed stood against the far wall, a closet stretched at the foot of it, and a nightstand stood to the mattress's right. A window hovered above and to the right of the bed, and even though it could open enough for a person to squeeze through and let in wonderful breezes during the summer, it seldom left its sealed resting place partially due to the rain and mainly because it was early spring and everything was cold. Not to mention outside noises.
Sighing, the fifteen-year-old grabbed her laptop up off the nightstand, unplugging it and walking back to the main space before setting the technology down, opening it and going to YouTube after it turned on.
She began typing and searching, finally finding the martial arts video she'd discovered the day before. It was long and full of difficult and complicated moves, so she was determined to master it regardless of how long it took.
Honestly, how stubborn can I be? If I spend too much time on one video, everything else is going to start leaking out of my ear and I'll have to start all over again, she scowled, removing her sweater to reveal a white T-shirt before getting down to work.
"At least it's finally Friday," Jakara mumbled as she wandered out of her school. She had a slightly heavier backpack, as she was going to be studying for a test and catching up on some homework she'd been putting off.
True, she'd rather not be doing anything remotely related to school on the weekend, but she had no friends, nowhere that she particularly liked hanging out at, nothing much to do at all.
And thus she reflected on the day, as she usually did to help sort out what she felt for who and why just to run a brush through the tangled mat of her emotion's hair and smooth it all out.
The idle question of whether she should be walking around alone when a serial killer was running amok drifted through her mind, and yes she was somewhat concerned, but judging by the news reports, the murderer just finished his victims with a sharp object like a knife. If that was the case, she decided she'd be fine.
Oh, but she forgot how much the universe loved jinxing people and proving them wrong.
About fifteen minutes later, half way back to her house and passing through the old, dusty and abandoned buildings she always did, a scuffle drew the teenager's attention. She was always on alert, but especially so outside of the house in a perfect place for anyone to try anything with her.
Her eyes once again searched the dark alleyways nearby for signs of life and she started upon actually seeing someone. She'd looked just in case, but hadn't really expected it. But something was off with this person.
Jakara couldn't tell their gender because like her, they were wearing a sweater with the hood hiding their face. The stranger's was white...but not pure white. It was smudged. What really made her heart skip was the part where it wasn't dirt, it was red and looked suspiciously like blood.
His blood, or someone else's? Forget common sense or her caution, she was always sympathetic with the injured. Not that she'd admit or acknowledge it...
And so, the fifteen-year-old wandered across the street, stepping lightly and noticing that the stranger's hair was thick, greasy, and black. It hung at different lengths down to, at the farthest, his chest. She couldn't see his eyes because of his bangs and the hood, but it was clear he was, in fact, bleeding.
"Hey, are you alright?" The person shifted slightly and Jakara knelt next to him, reaching forward to touch him when he suddenly swung a knife she'd failed to spot directly at her, causing the girl to rear back.
The stranger lifted his head, revealing wide pale eyes, an almost snow-white face, and a somewhat horrendous, carved-in smile that reminded her of the Joker from Batman. And yet, overall, she couldn't call him ugly.
Of course, good or bad looks weren't exactly on her mind as she bolted to her feet, backing up a couple steps and instinctively sliding into a stance that had become defensive habit.
The boy looked around her age, though it was hard to be sure due to his mutilated face. It was rather impressive, really, how he managed to produce a glare conveying his animalistic hostility while lacking eyebrows...and eyelids?
His grip seemed to constrict around the knife's handle despite his shaking limbs, only warning her more of his high threat level.
"What do you want?" That harsh tone. Too close to the one the bullies used for her liking. Not that he could see anything above the tip of her nose, but a glare simmered out anyway.
"Well, I was checking to see if you were dying or not. But you're obviously fine if you can still bite at the hand trying to feed you." She melted back into a normal stance, one hand on her hip and her head tilting haughtily.
"H-help?" But then the frown on his face intensified. "Don't need your help! And I don't want to see you anymore. Just…" his smile – his natural one – stretched wider. "Go to sleep."
Go to…what, how stupid does he think I am? Sleep near an armed stranger, a boy no less, in a dark alleyway when nobody even knows where I am?
"Heh, like that'll happen. So then, how badly are you hurt?" He looked down, mumbling and frowning like a normal, irritated, embarrassed student.
"I'm not hurt…"
"Says the one bleeding. If you wanted to keep your injuries a secret, you should've worn a red sweater." No reply came, and eventually, the fifteen-year-old sighed, sitting down and placing her backpack beside her.
Something's seriously wrong with my head for sticking around this guy. He just tried killing me with a frickin' kitchen knife, for Pete's sake!
"Why're you still here?" The bored, demanding, irritated tone hummed out in a way Jakara thought only her vocal cords could accomplish.
"Because I'm a sympathetic idiot. I take it there's no way you'll let me help?" Curiosity and annoyance relieved the scowl momentarily as he studied her, but they were chased away once again in a matter of seconds.
"Don't trust you. Why would you help anyway? I just tried killing you." That almost made her bang her head against the wall as she mentally confirmed the meaning of 'go to sleep'.
"I already said, I'm a sympathetic idiot who can't stand seeing other people hurt. And I'm used to hostility, anyway, so you're not exactly something new." Her hand reached up and she pulled back the hood of her sweater, scratching at where her dark locks had made her neck itchy. "And I'll have you know I basically never show my face."
The frown on the stranger's face switched from hostility to full-on curiosity, but something in his eyes that Jakara had noticed from almost the beginning was still there. She really couldn't name it, no matter how hard she tried. It just seemed...dangerous.
"Why?"
"Because I wanted to. It's not their business if I don't want to show my face, end of story. So, why're you sitting in an alley with a knife and open wounds?" He scowled at her, but began chewing the inside of his cheek and sighed.
"Guy had a gun. Fought me for the knife." Her eyes went wide, and as she stared at him, she realized that he did, in fact, look like he'd been shot in one shoulder. Not to mention the bloody tears in his sweater.
"I'm not sure I even want to ask. So, if you won't let me help, what's your plan? Hospital? Friend's house? Got a place to even go?" The glare returned, answering her question and she sighed. "So, you're just gonna bleed and hope you don't get infected?"
"Just shut up already." He ended up leaning against the wall for support as he stood before taking an unsteady step towards her, promptly collapsing onto his hands and knees with the knife still in hand.
"Yeah, whether you manage to crawl to me or not, making me 'go to sleep' isn't going to be easy when you're that hurt," she muttered, only infuriating him further.
"Shut up already, I'm not that bad." He got up again, tottering and starting to collapse a second time when she stood and caught him, one arm under his left armpit to help him stay up and the other holding his free wrist to keep the knife away.
The girl gently lowered him back to the ground, hopping back to get away from his weapon as quickly as possible.
"'Not that bad', huh? Well, you tried stabbing me even when I was helping you, so at the very least, you're persistent. And a jerk. How much blood have you already lost?" He glared at the ground, muttering something she couldn't quite catch.
Ugh, I'm an idiot, she sighed.